As a writer, I love to see my name in print. It means I’ve been published. My first experience with seeing my name on paper was when I mailed a letter to the editor. The newspaper even sent a photographer to my home to take a photo of me to include in the feature.
Since then, I’ve authored a few books, contributed to many others, and written over a dozen articles. The thrill is always the same. But none so thrilling an experience as the one my friend shared with me.
She had flown overseas to meet with family members she’d never met before. She felt small and insignificant as each told of their prestigious jobs, their honoured awards, their well-known names. They travelled in rich circles with other famous people. Not only were they published in magazines and books, but they were also written about.
My friend returned to her room deflated and sad. She cried out to God, “Lord, I’m such a simple woman. I’ve not won awards. I don’t have an impressive resume. My name isn’t written in any important books.”
God responded to her, “My child, your name is written in the most important book of all. The Book of Life.”